


Shelter

by jenni3penny



Series: In Time [8]
Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:26:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23758351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenni3penny/pseuds/jenni3penny
Summary: Epilogue to the 'In Time' series. That same storm brings them (back) together.
Relationships: Jethro Gibbs/Jacqueline "Jack" Sloane
Series: In Time [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1701886
Comments: 26
Kudos: 71





	Shelter

He should have known that the storm would finally bring her to him.

But then… he’d waited so long that he’d started maybe thinking that he had just really actually been crazy. Maybe day-dreaming the moments of previous lives, no matter how real and vibrant and full of _her_ they were… Maybe all of those ‘memories’ had just been the same trick brain that saw ghosts, talked to them even.

Near age sixty five he’d just assumed that she wasn’t real, that she hadn’t ever been, that she was the post traumatic siren of a soul-lost Marine, a la Marley’s Ghost.

He hadn’t remembered her yet when he’d married Shannon.

But by the time he’d started making his way through wives, he’d been expecting her, hoping he’d find her and be able to breathe evenly. He had worked his way through them, finally giving up and giving in to the idea that she just wasn’t coming.

“Thanks for letting me in.” But then she’d half rushed her way through the door and taken his breath with her, stopped up in the hall of his house and still holding the door open even after she had shoved her wet hair back off her face and grinned.

He would have known that voice anywhere, in any condition, in any environment. He had been hearing it in his head for years, echoing through memories. He’d been waiting for it, searching and longing for it.

Just as much as he’d been yearning for the exquisite smile she was flashing his way.

The mental image of that sweet smile had become his greatest silent companion for over thirty years. The smell of her skin when it was damp, the feel of her hair brushing his cheek, the sound of her long drawn moan as he kissed her shoulder and buried himself between her thighs.

“I didn’t,” he countered slowly, calmly pressing the door closed before he fully turned toward her and matched that celebratory grin. "Took you long enough."

"I've been delayed by… things," she admitted casually, sexy in a storm damp sweater and looking half drenched but thrilled. "But then so have you. Quite the Federal cowboy, I hear. That true?"

He just smirked more secretively in answer, wanting to wink or laugh or pull her close, wanting to touch every inch of her. He’d maybe kill to sink his hands into her hair just once, he was capable and she was so goddamn close and it had been a long lifetime without her already.

They’d lost so much time... “Thought maybe you weren’t coming. Woulda liked having you around.”

Her face lit even brighter in answer to his words, the repetition of the sentiment something that she caught instantly. Each variation of the same echoed and volleyed between them, reminders of the past, markers for each memory. And she was perfect in every moment.

“I thought maybe I’d somehow missed you but then I heard my friend say your name. He thought I was having a stroke. I shattered half a decanter set.” She laughed after admission, slightly self conscious but more than aware of the way it lit his face brighter to watch her. Her humor drew him closer suddenly, his feet moving without him realizing what was happening until she stepped into meeting him and grabbed against the flannel shirt he was wearing.

“Leon?” he asked, right hand rising to catch her jaw up, forcing her to lift her head into his inspection as she tried to nod. His thumb brushed her bottom lip as he studied her mouth, exhaling hard through his nose. Her fingers clamped around his wrist and squeezed and he felt the groan thrum up his throat as she turned her face into his hand and inhaled.

Her lips pressed a kiss against the break of his palm before she relaxed into his hand. “I completely overshot the silver fox years, huh? _Still_ handsome.”

“You always said you wanted to get old together. Can’t remember that last time we made it this far.” He wasn't sure they had, to be honest. Maybe not together, both still alive. He had seen his way through night terrors, nightmares, memories of her death or his (a blade to the throat, another to the side, a practiced Luftwaffe gunner shooting his ass right outta the sky, more gunshots and fire...).

Rarely had he lived to see his sixties and the times when she had died first…?

He had never lasted much longer than she had, really.

His other hand finally rose to stroke her wet hair back. “Still one of the most beautiful women I’ve _ever_ seen.”

Her nose scrunched up in affectionate humor, eyes getting thin and watery as stormwater still glossed her skin. “Charming, but a lie.”

He could see the tears start to build up on each other, ringing her darkened eyes and drawing him closer. Nothing could have stopped him from fully touching her then and especially when she stepped entirely into his reach, her arms looping his shoulders before he could even get himself wrapped down around her. He pulled in the deep damp rainwater smell on her, knowing it well, having smelled it often before.

“Where the hell have you been, Jacqueline?”

A happy sob broke against the side of his neck before she kissed him there and then burrowed purposely deeper into his arms. “I thought maybe I wasn’t going to find you this time.”

“ _Every_ time,” he kissed desperately against the side of her head, tasting rainwater and smelling… mint, maybe? “You hear me?”

“I hear ya, Cowboy.”


End file.
